


Gingerbread

by DameRuth



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Flirting - so much flirting, Romance, This is Jack after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: Working for alt!Torchwood, Rose meets a familiar face -- but is he someone she knows or a total stranger?[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2008.02.27 - 2008.03.02. No relation to any of my other alternate universes, but you can tell I love alt!Jack and alt!Torchwood by now.]
Relationships: Rose Tyler/Alt!Jack Harkness
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Jack/Rose Winter ficathon over at available_very on LJ, for dark_aegis/Gillian_Taylor.

Rose scanned the interior of the restaurant, looking for a blue blazer and a red carnation.  
  
“Any sign of our mystery man?” she whispered to Jake out of the corner of her mouth.  
  
“Nope,” he said, just as quietly, and Rose could feel the twitchiness coming off of him in waves. Give Jake an alien invasion and he was a rock at her back, but set him in a posh restaurant or a press conference and he was a bundle of nerves. Still, he was the best Torchwood partner she’d ever had, and after a couple of years in the field they worked together like a well-oiled machine. It helped that he’d been across the Void and seen her world . . . and met the Doctor.  
  
Rose caught a flash of dark blue out of the corner of her eye. “Wait . . .” she began, but never finished, because the waiter who’d been standing in front of the table moved, and she could see the man with the blue blazer and red carnation clearly for the first time.  
  
“Oh, God . . .” she groaned, as the shock of recognition hit her.  
  
It was Jack.  
  
There could be no doubt, even after several years, her time. It was the man she’d known as Captain Jack Harkness, who had been her best and truest friend besides the Doctor (and Mickey, her guilty subconscious whispered) during her “traveling years.”  
  
This new Jack craned his neck slightly, obviously checking out the departing waiter’s backside. It was such a familiar move, Rose’s heart nearly broke clean in two.  
  
“What?” Jake followed Rose’s line of sight. “Is that him?” Then he noticed Rose’s stricken expression. “Rose?”  
  
She turned to face Jake, putting her back to Jack, suddenly taken by an irrational fear that he’d recognize her. “I know him — the _other_ him,” she said, using their shorthand for referring to people from her home universe. “He traveled with me and the Doctor. When we met him he was a con man. He tried to con us — sell us a piece of what he thought was space junk. He’s from the fifty-first century; he’s a time traveler. Used to be a Time Agent.”  
  
Jake’s eyebrows went up, impressed, and he shot a glance in Jack’s direction over Rose’s shoulder. “Interesting, seeing as how he’s looking at selling _us_ something. You think it’s a con?”  
  
“Could be,” Rose responded. “We’ll need to be careful. He’s good at what he does. He can charm people at fifty paces, and before he met me and the Doctor he was all about looking after Number One. He got better, though . . .”  
  
Rose swallowed, remembering the kiss Jack had given her before heading off to certain death in service of the greater good. She’d never believed the Doctor’s later assurances that Jack had survived and was rebuilding the Earth. They had been a team and there could be only one reason, in her mind, for the Doctor to have left him behind.  
  
“You okay?” Jake asked her. His voice was gentle, but he had a reason for professional concern, too. If Rose was too overwhelmed by meeting the double of someone she’d known before, it could jeopardize their mission.  
  
He understood the bizarre doubling effects this universe threw at Rose on a near-daily basis, and was sympathetic about it. After all, he’d lost his boyfriend, Ricky, only to have him replaced by Mickey — Rickey’s exact physical double who liked Jake just fine, but was also Not Interested in other men. Jake could talk at length about the Gingerbread House effect, and how expecting a parallel doppelganger to be the same person one had known before was a fast track to a broken heart. He and Rose had gotten drunk together, more than once, lamenting that very point.  
  
“Yeah,” she said, willing herself to be calm. “Also . . . he’s almost certainly armed, if he’s anything like my Jack.”  
  
Jake looked oddly reassured. Fancy restaurants might be scary, but armed maniacs were familiar territory. “Is he dangerous?” Jake asked, hopefully.  
  
“God knows he can be if he feels threatened — he’s got the training. But my Jack used to prefer to avoid trouble. He’d rather charm people out of their socks — or the rest of their clothes — than get violent. Be prepared to get hit on. Figuratively.”  
  
Jake’s gaze drifted back to their quarry. “Dunno,” he said with a half-grin. “Doesn’t seem like much of a hardship . . .”  
  
Rose rolled her eyes. “Don’t let _him_ know that, or we’ll never get down to business,” she said, grinning affectionately at her partner. His presence was steadying, and she took a deep breath. She could do this. No better person, really, given the inside information she had at her disposal.  
  
\--  
  
Jack spotted them quickly as they moved decisively towards his table, and he rose to greet his guests. For the first time in far, far, too long, Rose was treated to that familiar gigawatt smile . . . but it wasn’t real. Just an act, all part of doing business. Rose knew the difference. She found she could read him easily, from her association with the other Jack.  
  
“Well, well,” he said, quick to be the first to speak, “If I’d known Torchwood would send me such pretty representatives, I’d’ve done business with them a long time ago.” He offered a friendly hand, canted slightly towards Jake.  
  
Rose took Jack’s hand firmly, establishing herself as the senior partner, and Jack’s keen blue eyes narrowed slightly as he took her measure. “Seeing it’s being said by someone so pretty himself, I’ll take that as a real compliment.” Rose told him with a confident smile. Her Jack had always responded well to a forward approach and a strong display of dominance.  
  
“Rose Tyler,” she added, introducing herself. “And this is Jake Simmonds.”  
  
“Captain Jack Harper.” The name rolled easily off his tongue. Jack took Jake’s hand with his usual grace, and a faintly wider grin. Jake, to his credit, didn’t so much as blink and returned a tight, professional smile.  
  
Jack gestured invitingly towards the empty seats at the table. A bottle of champagne was cooling in an ice bucket on a wrought-iron stand, and Jack pulled it free as he seated himself. With expert speed, he wiped the moisture from the bottle, popped the cork (catching it neatly in the towel), and poured sparkling alcohol into three waiting wine flutes.  
  
“I try to never discuss business with a clear head,” he said with a disarming smile, as he passed glasses to Rose and Jake. As he extended his arm, the sleeve of his blazer rode up slightly and Rose could see the familiar wristband that marked this Jack as another former Time Agent.  
  
Rose’s stomach knotted as she remembered a very different meeting — and the exact same words — next to Big Ben . . . but her lips couldn’t help quirking in a faint smile. Jack had a tolerance for alcohol that was little short of superhuman thanks to some tinkering from the Time Agency. During a “business” meeting he could match his marks drink for drink until they were considerably more vulnerable than they’d been at the start of the session, while his own head stayed perfectly clear. She knew, because he’d told her so.  
  
She took a tiny sip of the champagne, just enough to wet the tip of her tongue and verify it as a particularly expensive variety. As Pete Tyer’s daughter, she’d learned a little about such things during her time in this Universe. Jack and Jake both followed suit. Then Rose set her glass aside, and leaned forward. Jack raised his eyebrows expectantly, and leaned forward in reply. He was doing his best to be adorable. He was hiding something.  
  
Rose smiled sweetly. “Now, Captain . . . Harper, about this item you’re offering for sale . . . ?”  
  
“Straight to brass tacks. I like that in a business partner,” Jack replied with a wink, giving the word “partner” an inflection that hinted at less-than-standard transactions. “All right — I happen to have come into possession of a prototype for a new energy-storage system. Far more efficient than anything in use right now . . . even by Torchwood.”  
  
Rose leaned her chin on her hand and gave Jack a coy sidelong look. “All right, you’ve got my attention. Keep talking.”  
  
Jack named a price that made Jake choke on his second sip of champagne, though Rose didn’t bat an eye. “Oh, and I’ll want that in diamonds,” Jack added, casually.  
  
“Well, now, Captain . . . Harper,” Rose began. “If you’ve really got something to show that’s half as impressive as you think, that might be worth it.” He wasn’t the only one that could flirt, ha. “But I have to wonder how you came by this . . . prototype.”  
  
“Ah-ah-ah, no questions asked — I think that was what my message said.”  
  
“So it did, but . . .” Rose took what she hoped was a surreptitiously settling breath, and launched her offensive. “How do we know you’re on the level and what you’re about to sell us isn’t some random piece of junk? You strike me as the sort who might just try that sort of thing. In fact, you strike me as the sort who might be some kind of time traveler with, oh, an invisible spaceship currently moored next to Big Ben.”  
  
The color drained completely from Jack’s face, and Rose knew the shot had hit home, dead on. For a half-second he lost his flirty attitude altogether. Then he rallied and plastered on a smile that would have been stunning if Rose didn’t know Jack tended to reserve that expression for major damage control situations.  
  
“I must say, Torchwood hires _imaginative_ people,” he said, and started to rise. “But if you aren’t interested in what I have to offer . . .”  
  
“Did I say that?” Rose gave him a smile that was half sex and half steel, which caught his attention completely. “I just want you to know we’ll be watching _very_ hard to ensure that you’re on the level.”  
  
“In fact, we’re watching right now,” Jake interjected casually, spinning his glass by its stem and radiating an easy confidence. Over his nerves completely, bless him — and it wasn’t entirely a lie. Torchwood had CCTV cameras dotted all over London.  
  
“So,” Rose continued smoothly. “When do we get to sample your wares?” She positively smirked at Jack.  
  
The look he gave her was wary, curious and ever so slightly respectful. He didn’t run into many people who could throw him off balance. He was also clearly (to Rose’s eyes) weighing the fact that she hadn’t outright rejected the deal . . . and it involved a lot of diamonds. Then he made his decision.  
  
“I love eager women. This way.”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters mean faster updates . . . ;)

Rose and Jake followed Captain Jack Harper’s sporty red car across town. They were being tracked by Torchwood’s many CCTV cameras, the equipment in their car (of boringly neutral make and model — one thing Torchwood didn’t need was an advertising budget, as Pete had once commented), and their personal headsets.  
  
Not that Rose had any particular worries about personal safety — she was quite sure at this point that they were being led into a con of some sort.  
  
Beyond that . . . it was a little hard to focus.  
  
“I didn’t know he knew how to drive,” Rose murmured, as Jack’s car negotiated a turn, showing real skill on the part of its driver.  
  
Jake, who was at the wheel, didn’t look at her, but he did say, “Gingerbread,” very deliberately.  
  
“I know, I know, he’s not my Jack . . . but he almost is. Some people are nearly the same between universes — look at Rickey’s Gran. I never would have known the difference . . . and my Dad, he’s like the same person, just got lucky a few times in this world.”  
  
“And _you_ were a Yorkshire Terrier,” Jake pointed out.  
  
“You’ve got a point,” Rose had to concede, leaning her head back against the car seat. “Still, he’s close enough for me to read a lot of things I don’t think he knows I can. We’ve managed to rattle him, so he’ll be careful now. I’m hoping that will make him less likely to rip us off. And if it all works out on the level, maybe he could be a good source for other artifacts in the future . . .”  
  
“Oh, now you’re building gingerbread houses -- no, _castles_. In the air.”  
  
And she was. Rose shook her head and tried to clear away the pleasant thought of seeing Jack again, in friendlier circumstances. On a regular basis, even. She’d always been fond of him, in her world, and he of her, even though they’d never been more than friends with the Doctor around . . .  
  
God. Castles in the air, indeed. _Remember, girl,_ she thought severely to herself, _you’re just a mark to him right now. He doesn’t know you, doesn’t care, and probably never will once he gets what he wants and leaves. Best you can hope for is he doesn’t leave you stuck with a fancy paperweight and a huge diamond bill to explain to Dad._  
  
Jack led them to what looked like a deserted factory of some sort, in an industrial area. When Jake and Rose pulled up, he was leaning against his car, arms crossed, and looking smugly confident again. With a flourish, he unlocked a side door and waved them into a large open room lit by dim sunlight filtering down through dirty windows set high up the walls. In the center of one patch of light was the artifact in question, looking sleek and incongruous on the cracked, dirty concrete.  
  
Rose walked around it, inspecting carefully. Jake followed her and did the same.  
  
Definitely alien. Too complex to be a paperweight (at least, Rose was reasonably sure of that). More intact and in far better overall shape than most of the junk Torchwood usually managed to scavenge. Rose’s by now practiced instincts told her it was a Find. A very definite Find.  
  
She looked up at Jack, and cocked her head. He grinned back. “Well, Captain,” she told him, “you’ve got our attention. I’m going to call in a couple of our techs to have a look, and if they think it’s worthwhile we’ll see about those diamonds.” She tapped her headset and sent a request to the office at Canary Wharf.  
  
\--  
  
The Torchwood evaluation team arrived with exceptional speed — far too quickly for them to have been doing anything but waiting on Rose’s word. That wasn’t lost on Jack, she could tell, though he was more than happy to stand off to the side looking smug while Dr. Sato ran her team through their paces. Rose didn’t have much attention to spare for her friend’s doppelganger, though, as she was quickly swept up on Toshiko’s enthusiasm for the object. Tosh didn’t go into overdrive often, but she was doing it now.  
  
“It’s clearly some sort of energy storage device,” she told Rose, managing to rein in the technobabble long enough to provide a layman’s summary. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, though — it could be revolutionary . . .” Tosh’s eyes sparkled behind her glasses, and Rose could see her already planning an assault on the world’s energy problems.  
  
Rose had worked at Torchwood long enough to know that things probably wouldn’t progress _quite_ that quickly or altruistically in terms of putting the new discovery to work in the public sector, but she didn’t have the heart to burst Tosh’s bubble. She flicked a glance at Jack, in his full-out Smug Mode. He caught her eye and flashed a shiny white grin, no doubt already spending diamonds in his imagination. Rose had to admit, it looked like this deal was going to follow through to its conclusion.  
  
And then he’d be gone.  
  
She tamped all of her emotions back down behind her breastbone and concentrated on the here and now. It was hard, though, and getting harder with every minute she spent in “Captain Harper’s” presence.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she broke away from the little knot of cooing techs, and approached Jack. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, with a little added swing of the hips — a subtle jab at his flirtatious manner, if he was aware enough to catch the joke — but the nearer she got to him, the more she felt the urge to break into a run and give him a great, glomping hug. God, maybe Jake had been right, and she shouldn’t be here. Too late now, though. If she could face down alien invasions without losing control, she could do this. She could break down later if she needed to.  
  
“So,” Jack said, practically purring, when she was in earshot, “do you like what you see?”  
  
“I’ve seen better,” she shot back with a shrug, and caught the tiny twitch in Jack’s expression that said she’d scored a point — but then she relented and added more warmly, “This isn’t bad, though, I’ll say that. In the top ten of _my_ career.”  
  
Jack absorbed the compliment with spongelike greed, and grinned more widely. Rose wondered if he realized that he had his own susceptibilities. Possibly not, if he managed to keep most people dazzled and off-balance.  
  
He inhaled, and was just about to say something when he was interrupted by a shrill, obnoxious beeping. Rose, looking directly at him, was treated to the sight of Captain Jack going pale for a second time in one day. His grin slipped, his eyes widened, and Rose had the sudden urge to grab his hand and run — to where or from what, she had no idea.  
  
She followed his gaze, now directed over her shoulder, at the same time she heard the excited hubbub from the techs. The formerly dark, sleek, metallic artifact was now lit up all over with amber and red lights and was emitting the obnoxious noise.  
  
_That’s an alarm,_ Rose thought, reacting with gut instinct — warnings were usually designed to be obnoxious, to make them hard to ignore. She whipped her head around to look back at Jack, and the motion attracted his attention. For just a second their eyes met, and his were very wide, and very scared.  
  
“It’s not . . . It shouldn’t . . .” he said, barely above a whisper — and then he was pushing past her at a dead run.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficathon prompt is given at the end of this last chapter -- thanks for reading! :D

Jack shoved startled techs in all directions as he began frantically checking over the artifact, popping open hitherto hidden panels to reveal controls, running back and forth from one side of the object to the other, and radiating a desperation that had nearly everyone — even unflappable Tosh — gaping at him.  
  
Rose, however, was experiencing a certain amount of déjà vu, and a rising blood pressure to go with it.  
  
Moving with intent, she set herself at Jack’s side while he typed frantically at a small keypad. Now, in addition to his charms, she remembered all the irritating character flaws of a certain Captain Jack, with crystal clarity.  
  
“Jack,” Rose said in a low, warning growl, completely unaware of how very much she sounded like the Doctor dealing with human stupidity, “what the hell is going on?”  
  
Distracted, he responded on a subliminal level to the implicit familiarity in her tone, replying as honestly as another version of himself had once responded to the Doctor in a muddy vacant lot long ago and far away. “I picked it up off a junk heap on the moon in the thirty-fourth century,” he said, his attention focused on the tiny readout panel in front of him. “I thought it was dead; it would have been completely safe. But it must have been malfunctioning instead . . .”  
  
Rose’s rising anger nearly whited out her vision. “You didn’t _check_ , did you?” she told him, in a voice of flat finality. “You just _thought_ you knew.”  
  
Jack shot her a harried, guilty glance, as good as a confession.  
  
“God, Jack, what were you thinking?” All distinctions between this Jack and the Jack she had known before melted and vanished in Rose’s mind. She’d forgotten how sloppy, how careless he could be, back when he first joined the TARDIS crew. The Doctor had whipped him into shape posthaste — but this Jack hadn’t had the advantage of that schooling. “No, I know — you _weren’t_ thinking, and that’s the problem. What’s happening?”  
  
“Power overload,” he replied, succinctly, and nearly vaulted over the artifact in his haste to check something on the far side. The beeping was getting louder by the second. “It still has a residual charge. If I can’t reroute it, it’s gonna blow . . . _dammit!_ ” He slapped the housing in agonized frustration.  
  
“How big will the explosion be?” Rose asked, in such a deadly tone she managed to capture his full attention. He looked up into her smouldering eyes, and swallowed.  
  
“This city, at least,” he said, his voice rough and small.  
  
_”How long, Jack?_  
  
“Minutes,” he whispered.  
  
Rose was still too blazingly angry to be scared, or horrified, or anything but monumentally pissed off. She leaned forward across the artifact and snarled, enunciating every word, “Eight. Hundred. Thousand. People. All because you couldn’t be bothered to look over what you were selling.”  
  
Shivering, Jack stared into her eyes and she could see him realizing he was in a bind that couldn’t be fixed with money, or flirting, or charm, or easy lies . . . and it was all his fault, and there were innocent people — lots of them — who would suffer. It was Volcano Day, and he was caught wanting.  
  
His thoughts flitted across his face, expressions completely unguarded — and then his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed.  
  
“Everyone clear!” he yelled, in a voice of startling volume and authority. “Get back, _now_ ”  
  
Even Rose (feeling another whisper of déjà vu under her anger) obeyed immediately. Jack shoved up his blazer sleeve, did something quickly to his wristcomp . . . and then he and the shrilly-beeping power source vanished in a flare of blue light and a _whumpf!_ of re-distributed air..  
  
Everyone stood, stunned, looking at the now-empty space for a few seconds. Then Rose was running for the door of the warehouse. She was just in time to see the white streak shooting upwards from the general vicinity of big Ben and to experience the jarring sonic boom that rattled windows, teeth, and mortar all around the city a few seconds later. There would be a surprising amount of amateur video footage for Torchwood to deal with later, all of it showing a spaceship de-cloaking next to the famous landmark and blasting for the heavens with scarcely a moment’s pause . . . but of course Rose didn’t know about that at the moment.  
  
She did know Jack couldn’t cycle the ship’s FTL drive within an atmosphere; he was at the mercy of the antigrav thrusters, which were plenty fast, but were they fast enough . . .? She shaded her eyes and squinted up into the pale blue sky.  
  
She jumped when a sudden flare of blue light and slam of displaced air went off beside her, next to Jack’s sporty red car. Jack had returned. He was breathing heavily, looking rumpled and a little crazed, his hair sticking up randomly and the whites of his eyes completely visible around the blue irises.  
  
They stared at each other mutely for a second, when an outcry from some of the techs (who had been following Rose’s lead and scanning the sky) caught Rose’s attention and she turned in time to see a distant fireball — like a brilliant, daytime star — flare and die. Shaking with the beginnings of adrenaline reaction, Rose dropped the hand she’d used to shade her eyes, and looked back towards Jack.  
  
He’d been watching the fireball, too, his expression anguished, but Rose’s movement caught his attention. His face was enough to break Rose’s heart; she knew very well how much he’d loved his sleek Chula warship. Even the TARDIS, marvelous as she was, had never completely replaced Jack’s first ship in his affections.  
  
She didn’t even think about it. She simply closed the distance between them in three long strides, and hugged him, hard. He responded just as automatically, wrapping her tightly in his arms as if they’d embraced a thousand times. Rose closed her eyes, dizzy with relief. She pressed her cheek into rough wool (a blazer this time, not a greatcoat, but very similar in texture), inhaling his familiar scent. For just a moment, it seemed time stopped.  
  
“I thought . . .” Jack began, without letting her go, his voice rumbling in the ear pressed to his chest. He hesitated and she heard him swallow, “I thought I could clear the atmosphere and jettison the power source, but the overload sequence was just too fast. I barely got out.”  
  
Rose gave him a heartfelt extra squeeze around the waist. All her previous anger had burned away into nothing; now she was just deeply relieved not to have lost him so soon after finding him again. “Oh, Jack, your poor ship . . . but you saved the city. Thank you.”  
  
He squeezed back, and rubbed his cheek against her hair. Then he qualified, “The city _I_ nearly blew up.” His tone was wry and thoughtful at the same time.  
  
Rose’s breath caught, and for just a moment she remembered the Doctor going on about how he could feel when Time and History had turned some critical corner. Back at the time, she’d thought it was something he was making up to impress her, honestly, but _she_ felt it now. This was Jack, turning a corner — taking responsibility and realizing the impact of his actions. Maybe he was setting out on the road to become someone new. The Doctor didn’t exist in this Universe to be the catalyst for that change . . . but she did.  
  
Maybe the gingerbread she’d been longing for wasn’t an illusion after all.  
  
“But, now . . .” Very gently, Jack moved to disengage from the hug, though he maintained a light grip on Rose’s upper arms. He scanned her face very carefully. “Do I know you? Or, more to the point, _will_ I know you?”  
  
It was a perfectly logical question for a time traveler to ask, and Rose found herself at a momentary loss. “Um. Yes, and no. It’s . . . complicated. But there’s no danger of a paradox in the timeline,” she added, hurriedly, addressing the first and foremost concern he must have. She huffed a small laugh. “I’m not sure you’d believe me even if I explained it . . .”  
  
Jack arched his eyebrows and smiled at her — but it was a real smile now. “I dunno,” he told her. “You should try me. I might surprise you.” The words were flirtatious, but with humor evident beneath them, more banter than attempted seduction.  
  
“Mm, it might be mutual,” Rose said, raising an eyebrow back at him as she fully disengaged from the last of their hug. “We could discuss it over dinner. Maybe a little dancing . . . you do dance, don’t you?” she finished, coyly.  
  
“I dance divinely,” Jack replied cheerfully, without a trace of modesty. “But. Uh.” He faltered, and looked over his shoulder at his red car. “The car’s a rental. It’s due back by five. I was expecting to have a handful of diamonds by then . . .” He sounded genuinely at a loss, and the last of Rose’s hesitation melted. He was treating her as a friend now, letting her in on the mechanics of his plans as if she were a part of them.  
  
“I can handle the car,” Rose said firmly — and she could; she earned a good salary from Torchwood, and not just because of Pete. Inspiration struck, and she caught her tongue between her teeth to keep from grinning too widely. “You know, if you’re looking for work now, Torchwood is always recruiting people with . . . experience.”  
  
Surprised, Jack cocked his head at her. He seemed intrigued. “You realize I don’t have any proper credentials for this time period,” he said. “Good enough for a quick pass through, but not something that’ll stand up to serious inspection.”  
  
Rose waved a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry.” She winked. “The Director of Torchwood is my stepdad, and the Assistant Director is an old boyfriend. I can work something out, trust me. We can discuss that over dinner, too.” She imagined the Assistant Director’s (i.e. Mickey/Ricky’s) expression when she introduced this version of Jack, and her smile was entirely unfeigned.  
  
Jack nodded slowly, impressed. “Gorgeous _and_ well-connected. I’m thinking this is my lucky day.”  
  
“You might just be right,” Rose told him.  
  
A stage cough reminded Rose that she and Jack weren’t the only people present. She turned to find the entire Torchwood team watching, as if enjoying a play or sporting match.  
  
Tosh cleared her throat. “So,” she asked brightly. “Now what?”  
  
Reality and responsibility came crashing down. Rose rubbed her forehead. “Argh. First, we get back to headquarters, and then we start figuring out how we explain an invisible spaceship in the middle of London.”  
  
“Experimental aircraft,” Robbie popped out. “That always works.”  
  
“Beats swamp gas,” Rose agreed, and heard a low, appreciative chuckle from Jack.  
  
“We could look after that, if you have . . . other things to deal with,” Sarah piped up, looking ready to burst into a huge grin.  
  
“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” Tosh added, and Rose could just see the gossip wheels revving, fueled (she was well aware) by years of speculation about whom (or even what) the Director’s daughter might eventually start dating.  
  
“Well . . . “Rose couldn’t resist drawing it out for a moment. “All right, you all know the routine. I know you can handle it. But be sure to call if you need anything.” She tapped her headset with a fingernail by way of illustration. She was sure they’d be monitoring her closely, anyway; otherwise they wouldn’t have been anywhere near so quick to encourage her to take off with a (to them) complete stranger. But there was no need to mention that now and break the mood.  
  
Just behind Tosh, Rose caught sight of Jake. He met her eyes, and gave her a lopsided smile combined with a slow headshake. _On your head be it,_ Rose translated automatically, _but good luck._ She smiled back and returned a fractional nod. It was all they needed between the two of them.  
  
Turning back to Jack, she found him leaning against the car, his arms crossed, taking his turn as the audience with good humor. “Not due back till five, you said. We’ve got a while yet. Why don’t we take her for a spin?”  
  
“And then dinner?”  
  
“Yeah, and then dinner.”  
  
“Followed by dancing?”  
  
She couldn’t help grinning at the playful puppy-dog eyes he gave her with the last question. “If you play your cards right, Captain Harper.”  
  
“Well, then.” Jack opened the passenger door of the red car in his best courtly manner. “I’d be honored, Miss Tyler.”  
  
“You’d better be,” Rose told him primly as she took her seat and was rewarded with a laugh she’d never expected to hear again.  
  
Gingerbread. Sometimes it was made into houses where witches lived, ready to trap the unwary. But sometimes it was the stuff of comfort . . . and home.  
  
_fin_  
  
\---  
  
My chosen prompt for the story:  
  
Prompt #1:  
Three things you'd like in your fic: AU!Time Agent Jack, Rose working at alt!Torchwood, dancing  
Two things you don't want in your fic: Babies, excessive emo  
Preferred rating or range of ratings you prefer: Any ;)  
  
_A/N - Couldn't realistically avoid a **little** angst here, but I hope it wasn't excessive; and Jack is very definitely an **ex-** Time Agent, but that worked better for a story I wanted to keep manageable in length and posting time . . ._  



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